


Heart's Day

by W_H_4_T



Series: Blessings of Mara [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Dirty Thoughts, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gift Giving, Idiots in Love, It's my mental illness I get to choose the coping mechanism, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Shyness, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_H_4_T/pseuds/W_H_4_T
Summary: A day dedicated to the Goddess of Love and funnily enough, Her greatest denier follows tradition.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lydia
Series: Blessings of Mara [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161977
Kudos: 9





	1. I See You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy almost ended Valentine's day yall!
> 
> Yea. This is fun. Having fun over here wheeeee

This would be the third time she’s told Belathor to shut up. The greasy little bastard really couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut, especially since his latest customer was a fixture to Whiterun. 

“Will you hurry it up already?” the sleazy Breton groaned, “Buy something or get out.”

Lydia straightened at the provocation, drawing her height up in full before glowering at the shopkeep, “I have the coin, I’m gonna buy something, now  **shut up** .”

Belathor sighed before passing a cloth over his counter, taking up his time while the former guardswoman looked over his wares. Lydia’s personality was very blunt, if she didn’t like you then she would do everything to stay away from you. Belathor was one of those omitted persons, a fact only made more prevalent with the way he hassled her. 

“Nothing here’s gonna work,” the Housecarl muttered, poking random bits of jewellery on the counter, “I’m looking for something more uh...strange? Magical or kinda magical?”

“You’re thinking of enchanted items then,” Belathor said with intrigue, his mood finally lifting now that a marketable route was chosen.

Lydia deliberated for a second before starting again, brushing a finger over a few rings, “I mean magic as in ‘looks magical’ not really enchanted things,” she stops for a moment, flicking her green eyes up to stare at the man, “Unless you have some weird stuff that’s also enchanted.”

Drumming his fingers on the counter, the shopkeep thought for a while before raising a finger to the Housecarl, excusing himself to the backroom to dig through his merchandise. 

“Remember when those pale freaks came a few years back?” he shouted through the rumble of moving boxes, “One of them sold me an interesting bauble that pretty much fits your description.”

Lydia waited at the counter while Belathor continued rummaging, anxious as to what the Breton would bring out. She wanted it to be perfect but in a small town like Whiterun, odd trinkets were not in abundance; Fralia’s stand had fine wares but nothing...eccentric.

Her reticent ways began faltering again as she thought of the gift and who it was for. Zephyr seemed to like strange things; occult objects, bestiaries basically anything that wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a temple. Before she knew it, she was back to blushing with her head bowed to try and control the rush of blood. They’d parted ways for the day to deal with their own personal tasks; serendipitously so as tomorrow was Heart’s day.

All of a sudden, Lydia’s perfectly fit armour didn’t feel so well-tailored; the metal felt as if it were constricting her chest as she breathed. Her heart raced as she thought of Zephyr’s kind silvery eyes and yet another curse to Mara was made silently. A Housecarl and Thane were like two cogs working in tandem, it would be unprofessional and dangerous to do silly little things while she lay under Mara’s influence. 

“Don’t  **EVER** say I have less than quality products, guard,” Belathor yelled as he returned from the stockroom, snapping Lydia from her musings, “I’m surprised it didn’t fall apart when I touched it. This thing is  _ oooooold. _ ”

Carefully, Belathor laid the item down, unwrapping it from its cloth carrier for inspection. It definitely looked aged but Zephyr liked antique oddities and it  _ definitely  _ was in the obscure, occult section of jewellery. 

It was perfect. 

Before she reached for her pouch, Lydia raised herself up again, glowering at the small man, “Try to grift me and I’ll punch your teeth in.”

Belathor reacted as he should, intimidated by the threat but mostly due to the fact that the outcome happened several times before. The shifty man never once got an ill-gained coin out of the Housecarl even though he still tried. 

For just a moment, Lydia broke her steely gaze and normally withdrawn behaviour to smile, catching the shopkeep off guard. Never once, in all his years of manning that little store, did he ever see that woman smile in his walls. 

“You should smile more, makes you look better,” he said, amused.

That only earned him another scowl, forcing the grin back into a frown, “Do you want me to punch you?”

The question remained unanswered and thankfully, there was no blood or teeth spilt that day.


	2. And You See Me

It was 3 am when Lydia attempted to sneak across Breezehome’s notoriously squeaky floorboards. When she was little, she and some of the local kids would break into the old house to explore and play games. That is until the guards would throw them out and get the locks changed. Again. 

Creeping up on the balls of her feet, Lydia really tried to summon the shadowy part of her, mirroring the way Zephyr moved and doing a poor job of it. A loud creak sounded off as she squeezed her eyes shut, cursing her reckless gait and once more, Mara.

Finally, Lydia found herself at Zephyr’s bedroom and using the greatest amount of care, pushed herself through the doorway.

There was nothing but darkness as she saw the soft outlines of a shape in the bed; Zephyr sleeping soundly no doubt. Not willing to tempt fate, Lydia silently stepped towards the only chair in the room and placed her gift down gently. 

“I am a light sleeper.”

The shock was palatable as Lydia fell backwards gracelessly, landing with a hard thump. A rather high-pitched squeak escaped her as she fell, only adding to her wounded pride.

So much for that. 

“When did you...I’m sorry I woke you up, really I am,” Lydia began apologizing, her eyes wide in the darkness. 

Zephyr opened her fist to summon a magelight above them, lighting the room in a bright white glow. Though her blonde hair was haggard from sleep Zephyr still looked as lovely as ever, smile in place and all. 

Lydia knew now was not the time but damn it all, that blush was back. All that bravado from this morning seemed like a farce compared to her sudden shyness. Talos help her, she was **never** shy.

“Though you’re a talented shieldmaiden, you can’t sneak to save your life,” Zephyr said kindly, her hand reaching out to help the warrior up, “I heard you from the moment you roused from bed.”

Taking her hand, Lydia was hoisted up, albeit with much difficulty as the Breton woman struggled to pull. Soon enough, she was back on her feet, with Zephyr looking up at her with sleepy eyes and a raised eyebrow. 

Lydia had to look away lest she loses her nerve again. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she muttered, plucking the amulet from the chair to show the Breton, “I know you like strange things and I thought...with Heart day tomorrow...This…” almost immediately, Lydia backtracked her statement, her shoulders bunching in nervous fear as she tried to excuse herself, “This was a mistake.”

Zephyr reaches out, grabbing Lydia’s forearm before she could take off. Though she didn’t possess the strength of a swordswoman, Zephyr kept her grip firm, locking Lydia in place.

“Lydia,” Zephyr said quietly, running her fingers along the jewellery, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to get you something, but if I’ve overstepped-”

“No,” Zephyr responds curtly, her other hands squeezing her Housecarl’s forearm, “You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I owe you my thanks for such a beautiful and thoughtful gift.”

Hung on a leather strap was an amulet made of feathers and bone; a hawk’s skull soaked up the magelight’s harsh glare, highlighting the deep purple amethyst inlay. 

“Can you help me put it on?” Zephyr inquired, looking up at Lydia.

It was a little difficult to focus. The light from overhead, albeit harsh, lit up Zephyr’s face in the most beautiful way, brightening her eyes, the fan of her eyelashes, the pink, pouting lips that looked all too soft.

For a moment, she imagined what she’d taste if she pressed forward, locking their bodies together, sampling her skin. 

“Of course,” Lydia said abruptly, chiding her mind for such indecent thoughts. 

Forget Mara, now she was being haunted by her second most despised Goddess, Dibella. 

Lydia slinked behind Zephyr as she charged the magelight, noting the scent of Jazbay grapes and lavender that clung to her hair. Everything about Zephyr was...enchanting. She wore her hair freely for once, which Lydia carefully brushed off the back of her neck, gliding her thumb along the bare skin. It was a quick succession; looping the necklace around her throat before clipping it together at the back all while guiltily brushing soft touches on the Breton’s shoulders. 

When she was finished, the mage turned around, flaunting her new amulet with a smile.

“How do I look?” 

Lydia was never the talkative type mostly due to her upbringing. More often than not she was seen instead of heard; every word out of her mouth was for necessity, not frivolity. 

But Zephyr drew out one of those buried feelings much like the day she fell ill, yanking her apart with compassionate glances and warm smiles. Lydia was never one for poetry but…

“You look absolutely radiant.” she said, meaning every single damn word. 

That earned her a chuckle from the Dragonborn which soon developed into a full blown laugh. 

“Have you traded your sword for a lute, dearest Lydia? I would suspect my unearthly glow is attributed to my mage's light!” Zephyr giggled as she attempted to calm her laughter.

“It wasn’t meant to be a joke.” Lydia responded, trying her best not to blush at the word ‘dearest’.

“I know, but you so rarely jest! Either way, I appreciate your compliment as well as the gift,” she moves her hand upwards to fiddle with the skull, “I will cherish it always.”

Zephyr was simply speaking from the heart as she usually did, but her words hit Lydia like an arrow from Mara. Even though she normally stood ramrod straight, Lydia found herself slouching a little as the tips of her ears burned. 

Glancing up at Zephyr in short increments, she mumbled a small _you’re welcome_ before the conversation found itself halted by the magelight’s disappearance. 

“Out of Magicka,” was all the Breton could say in the near darkness, “But if you can humour me for just a while...” she gestured for the Nord to follow her as she moved towards the bed.

Lydia’s eyes flew open as she saw Zephyr’s path, her spine straightening and expression, thoroughly shocked as her heart beat rapidly in her ears. 

_Talos fucking preserve me_

As she took a step forward, her thoughts were once again under Dibella’s control, conjuring images of small, lithe, unclothed Zephyr writhing beneath her, eyes watering or closed, lips parted in some frenzied, short exclamation to one of the Divines. 

Zephyr seemed like the bedroom praying type. 

Once again, Lydia had to dismiss the gutter trash swimming around in her head as she walked towards the mage, standing by her side as she dug through her chest, looking for something within its depths. 

“As I do not know your birthday, I thought to hold onto this until I did,” she said, withdrawing a sheathed sword from the container, “Considering tomorrow’s Heart day and you've shown such generosity, I may as well give you your gift.”

The sword was relinquished to Lydia who pulled the blade slowly from its scabbard; a brilliant orange glow emitted from the edges of the intricately carved metal.

“It’s an enchanted sword; pure quicksilver from Solsthiem,” Zephyr said as she sidled up next to Lydia, “I’m no great smith so I had this commissioned but the enchantment is wholly mine.” there was a reddish tinge to Zephyr’s face as she pointed out a particular carving, “I had your name inscribed in Nordic and the enchantment is fire since you’re...rather heated in battle.”

With careful hands, Lydia slid the sword back into the sheathe before turning to Zephyr, looking down with a watery green gaze.

“Thank you.” was all she could eke out, feeling a small rush of emotions overcome her.

And suddenly, all those emotions exploded far away from her mind as Zephyr pulled her into a hug, fitting neatly under Lydia’s jaw as she rocked her slightly. 

“You’re most welcome.”

Lydia holds the sword away from the Breton, using her other arm to gently wrap around her shoulders; the scent of Jazbay grapes hanging heavily in her senses. Zephyr was damn good at many things, magic, bartering, book learning and now hugs. Though she experienced her share of rough travel, Zephyr still carried herself with a level of comfort, her hands were weathered from callouses and dirt but she was always inviting, always warm.

Mara, spare her from these thoughts. Every moment she spent with the mage plunged her deeper into this silly crush. 

Finally, the Breton let go, passing her hand through her hair as she attempted to smooth the curling strands; suddenly very aware of her appearance. 

“I...I’ll...I’ll turn in now. Thank you...for the sword,” Lydia mutters, gripping the blade tightly.

Zephyr nodded in agreement, giving Lydia one last smile before she left the room, slowly but surely, sword in hand and head bowed. The door closed quietly, leaving Zephyr in the darkness to stew in her emotions. She grasped the skull amulet in her hand once more, trying to calm her heart, gulping to regain her composure. 

Why in Kynareth’s name did she decide to hug her?

The Breton began pacing just a bit before standing idle by her bed, gripping the pendant. 

_Calm down, calm down. She’s just being nice. She’s...It’s Heart’s day tomorrow and…_

Slowly but surely, Zephyr calmed herself as she passed a hand through her hair. 

A Nord. A brash, hard-headed Nordic woman caught her attention. One who charged headlong into danger and rarely ever wore anything but her armour.

Julianos guide her, she didn’t know what to think. Then again, Lydia was more than just some Nord. There was someone under all that armour, uncertain and sweet beneath the prideful, stoic exterior. 

Throwing herself on the bed, Zephyr tossed around like a teenager, not once letting go of the amulet.

It was only when the sunrise came peeking through the roof did she realize that she didn’t sleep once since Lydia’s surprise visit. 


	3. But Do We See Each Other?

Waiting at the gates was a certain former guard. Currently, she held one of the guardsmen in a headlock as another patrolman cheered the show of strength.

“You’re getting soft, Arvid!” Lydia barked, keeping the man in place as he desperately tried to move her hands.

“SOFT?! I can barely breathe in this Talos damned helmet!!! You’re not making it any better, Milkborn!” the guard replied through.

That comment only earned a tighter squeeze, forcing the guard to surrender before his neck could snap. Falling forward, the guard began coughing as Lydia hauled him upwards, clapping her hands on his forearms.

“Again with the nickname. Just shut up for once!” she retorted, shaking the man in her grip. 

“Aye, look,” said the spectating guard, pointing towards an approaching Zephyr with great intrigue, “You’re damn lucky, Lydia. You get to walk behind her every day! What a view!” he playfully jabs the Housecarl in her ribs, ignoring the sour expression as the Breton draws closer. 

“That’s the Thane of Whiterun -your Thane- and you better show some **fucking** respect,” Lydia growled, slapping the hand away. 

They knew better than to upset Lydia too much, she could be a right menace when incensed, especially with that temper of hers. Nordic women were never to be trifled with.

At once, Lydia broke into a smile as Zephyr met her by the gate; the grin grew wider as she noticed the amulet. 

“Honor to you, my Thane.” Lydia said with a small nod.

“And to you, Lydia.” Zephyr responded before looking at the guards, “Good day, gentlemen. I do hope you enjoy the weather today. It’s remarkably sunny for once!”

The guardsmen stood at attention with Arvid being the first to respond, “Thank you, Dragonborn,” underneath the helmet, there was a smile on the man’s face; Zephyr’s chipper attitude was infectious.

They parted to allow the pair to exit the gates, opening up the way for their next adventure. Strolling out, Lydia and Zephyr walked closely, the new sword was strapped to the Housecarl’s side and proudly shown in its wicked sharp glory. 

They trundled along the cobblestone path in companionable silence before Zephyr spoke again. 

“May I ask why that guard called you Milkborn?” 

Pressing her lips together, Lydia thought for a moment before speaking, “I uh...I...I’m nobility I guess,” she stutters, “My father is Hrongar and...yeah...the guards mean well regardless.”

It was Zephyr’s turn to think, her steps becoming slower before she stopped.

“Your uncle’s the Jarl!” she proclaimed, suddenly hit by the realization, “You **are** nobility!”

“By relation but I prefer not to associate with it. I went through the same training as all the other guards, slept in the same barracks and ate the same food. The only thing that makes me a noble is my blood.” 

Placing a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, Zephyr gave a small smile and a small push, “I appreciate your candour. Truly. In fact, I can share something interesting about my heritage too...” she paused, still beaming, “Would you believe, I was raised by two Mer women.”

And once more, the baton of surprise passed to Lydia who stood staring at the Dragonborn, a very happy, proud Dragonborn. The shock soon faded to interest as Lydia prodded the Breton for information, slowly growing their friendship even as Mara and Dibella worked to twist her mind. 

Little did Lydia know that Mara held tightly to Zephyr too, weaving little strands of fate, slowly knotting each thread to stitch the pair together. Their fingers touched as they walked and neither spoke a word, allowing it to happen again and again while one half hesitantly cursed the Goddess of Love while the other half thanked her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you, thanks for reading. I know its a bit awkward but h e y.
> 
> I'm a slut for writing in lore for characters.


End file.
